


Stability

by yellow_sleeping_bag



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, One Shot, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:42:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24884017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellow_sleeping_bag/pseuds/yellow_sleeping_bag
Summary: Dimitri, King of the United Kingdom of Fódlan, lies in bed, hiding from everyone under his sheets. Fully dressed in clothes he’s been wearing for days, he’s covering his chambers in dirt, mud and sweat. He attempted to train a few days ago and hasn’t cleaned since. Or slept. Or eaten, save for the scraps his stomach aches for.Felix would be disappointed, his mind bitterly tells him, a boar once again. But that doesn’t matter because he left.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 2
Kudos: 61





	Stability

**Author's Note:**

> Ugh, this has been a fucking pain to write. I literally wrote thousands of words in one direction, just to re-think it slightly, and change the whole fucking thing. 
> 
> I had Dimitri go all out detective after a kidnapped Felix at one point, might still follow up that idea but not for this one. Jumping from location to location in my usual one shot length seemed amateurish, the way I did it anyway.
> 
> In the end though, I'm quite happy with this. I'll re read it tomorrow, to check for lil mistakes and shit. But honestly, this has been a pain, and I want it out of my hands now.....
> 
> (Also lmao poor Gilbert, but I'm not a fan of his character so maybe this was my way of venting)
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, and enjoy!

Dimitri, King of the United Kingdom of Fódlan, lies in bed, hiding from everyone under his sheets. Fully dressed in clothes he’s been wearing for days, he’s covering his chambers in dirt, mud and sweat. He attempted to train a few days ago and hasn’t cleaned since. Or slept. Or eaten, save for the scraps his stomach aches for.

 _Felix would be disappointed,_ his mind bitterly tells him, _a boar once again. But that doesn’t matter because he left._

Dimitri sits up suddenly, angry at himself. He rips himself out of bed, tearing one of the sheets that got caught on the frame as he stands. He grabs the flowerpot on the nightstand and throws it across the room, into the long-cold fireplace. It smashes against the metal stand; the wilted petals and dead ash flutter up and lazily drop back down, settling into a mess.

 _Felix didn’t leave him._ He repeats to himself. _There was a situation in Fraldarius Territory, and it required the Duke’s immediate attention. He had to go. He had to go._

‘If you were a better King, Felix would still be here.’ A voice says. It sounds like an old advisor of his Father’s; long dead. ‘You need to attain order yourself now, through fear if necessary.’

Dimitri whirls around himself, looking for the source of the corrupt voice.

“Shut up!” He roars, into the empty bedroom. “You no longer haunt me as you once did! I have my advisor, and he is the only voice I listen too!”

‘You’re going to get him killed.’ Glenn states, staring at Dimitri from his right side, so Dimitri can’t get a clear view of him. He rips off his eyepatch, in frustration, and looks at Glenn with his only eye. He disappears when Dimitri turns.

‘He left you once and has left you again.’

“No,” Dimitri mutters, crumbling to the floor, and clutches his hair tightly. “Felix is mine. He is mine. He didn’t leave me. He is mine.”

‘He’s the one person you could never fool, your Highness.’ Rodrigue says, and Dimitri tentatively looks up, eye glued onto the Fraldarius’ back; where his fatal wound is visible, dagger and all. ‘Felix knew what you were, what you are. He left you. He has never been, and never will be truly yours.’

‘You’re going to get him killed.’ Glenn repeats.

“No,” Dimitri chokes out, “You’re wrong. He’s safe.”

‘Is he?’ Rodrigue asks, still facing the window. ‘You haven’t heard from him in a week.’

Glenn steps forward again. ‘He had close calls during the war. He’s been stabbed, pierced, and impaled. You’ve seen him bleed. You’ve seen his scars. You’ve heard him cry out in pain. You’ve hurt him during sparring matches. You’ve….’

Dimitri punches the floor, curling up uselessly and in pain. _They’re not real. Felix is okay, Felix is fine. Felix is mine._

He closes his eye tightly, shaking on the floor in his ruined room. He lies there until the voices die down, focusing his mind on Felix. He pictures Felix’s small frame. His orange, copper eyes. Dark, silky hair. His sharp words that mask his concern. Dimitri manages to calm himself down enough to quieten the voices again.

He wakes up, uncomfortably from the floor. He still feels tired, and achy, but he ignores it. He turns his head to the window, and watches the orange, evening sky. He takes some deep breaths, as Felix always instructs him to do, before pushing himself up. He grabs his cloak, from where he uncaringly dumped it on the floor, and looks around for his eyepatch. He threw it away and can’t find it.

_Who cares anyway?_

Leaving his bedroom, and crossing his private sitting room, he exits his suffocating chambers. Though he left without an eyepatch, his ensures his hair covers his scar.

“Your Highness, I’m glad to see you up.” Gilbert says, immediately corning him as he starts walking. “We have much to discuss. Several Lords have requested,”

“I don’t care right now.” Dimitri replies, quickening his pace to get away from the knight. “Felix instructed to not hold any council meetings until he or Dedue return. I will abide by that.”

“But these matters are important. You have certain duties to uphol-“

“Enough!” Dimitri shouts, Gilbert stops walking, and Dimitri spins around angrily. “Do you want me to admit my faults? How I’m not sane enough to enough to think straight? How I cannot trust my own mind, and make the best decisions?”

“I will be there to assist-“ Gilbert tries.

“I do not trust you!” Dimitri yells, and this causes the Knight to flinch.

“Your Highness?” Gilbert questions, “I have done nothing but support you,”

“You are not my right hand! You are not Rodrigue! You are not my father!” As Dimitri yells, letting his anger out at the first person he encountered, he notices several servants and guards looking over, watching the scene. “You have no right to speak to me like this. You have never tried to support me and, you ignore my state of mind. Try listening to your daughter before trying to ‘advise’ me.”

Dimitri turns on his heel, not waiting for a response, before storming off. As he passes a group of servants, who were clearly watching, he scowls.

“What are you looking at!”

They jump in fright, scurrying away into the depths of the castle. Dimitri continues on his path, going nowhere.

He wanders through the halls, his feet taking him to the training grounds naturally; almost as if he believes Felix may be there. The walk there has calmed him, as memories of training with Felix arise. Or, maybe it’s just his mood swings, as Felix says. Angry one minute, sombre the next.

Of course, though, Felix isn’t at the training grounds and Dimitri pretends to not be disappointed. Sylvain and Ingrid are training though, Ingrid fully focused on sparring and Sylvain an unwilling training dummy.

“Ah, your Kingliness. Lovely to see you.” Sylvain says, gladly stopping his training to greet the King. He lowers his lance, and Ingrid pauses her attacks.

“Your Highness,” Ingrid turns, catching her breath. “How are you feeling?”

He goes to tell them to leave him alone; wanting to wallow in his solitude, but he shuts his mouth. Instead, he takes a breath.

“Where is…?” He says, not knowing what he’s asking, but they both seem to understand immediately, as Dimitri looks around the training grounds dejectedly. Ingrid and Sylvain look at each other with sympathetic smiles and turn to him.

“Felix should be returning tomorrow.” Ingrid says. “He’ll be back before you know it.”

 _Tomorrow._ Dimitri looks at the sky. _Tomorrow is so far away._

“Your Highness? Would you like to join us for dinner? Sylvain and I were just finishing.” Ingrid asks, taking Sylvain’s training lance from him, and putting them in the weapons rack.

_I could just, go to him. I can go and get him, and then Felix will be with me._

Dimitri lowers his gaze, and turns to look at the door, determinedly.

“I’m going to get him.” He decides, and turns, heading towards the main gate of the castle.

Ingrid turns to look at Sylvain quickly, confused. Sylvain quickly rushes over to Dimitri, running in front of him.

“Woah, your Highness. You’re going to Felix? Right now? Are you sure that’s the best decision?”

“Out of my way.” He says, walking around Sylvain, down the path that leads around to the front.

“Your Highness!” Ingrid says, rushing out from the training grounds, grabbing Sylvain’s arm as she passes him.

Dimitri continues to walk, getting more agitated at them trying to stop him.

_They want to keep me from Felix. They want Felix for themselves._

“Your Highness! Dimitri!” Sylvain raises his voice. Mercedes comes out from one of the courtyards, at the raised voice. She watches Dimitri walk past her, before turning her focus to the others.

“Sylvain. Why are you shouting? Is everything alright?” She asks, walking over to Ingrid and Sylvain.

“Dimitri’s decided he’s going to see Felix, now.” Ingrid replies, barely pausing to talk to Mercedes.

“Isn’t Felix still in Fraldarius?” She asks softly, now walking alongside them as they follow the king.

“Yep.” Sylvain replies, quickening his pace. “Damn, he walks fast.”

Dimitri reaches the main gate, and Sylvain runs. He reaches out and grabs Dimitri’s arm. Dimitri turns around, forcing his arm off him. He’s not intending to hurt him, he still recognises it’s Sylvain, but he forgets his own strength, and Sylvain falls to the ground.

“Sylvain!” Ingrid yells, rushing over to help her friend up.

“I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.” Sylvain assures her, but also tells Dimitri, trying to make eye contact with him.

Mercedes steps forward, “Dimitri, you should reconsider leaving. It’s not safe to go wandering off by yourself.”

“He’s returning tomorrow.” Ingrid repeats, “You don’t have to go to him now.”

Dimitri forces himself to listen. He takes a breath.

“What if he doesn’t?” He eventually asks, tightening his fist. His nails dig into his palms as he thinks back to what the voices have told him.

_‘If you were a better King, Felix would still be here.’_

_‘You’re going to get him killed.’_

“You know how stubborn Felix is. He’s coming back to you, don’t worry.” Sylvain assures him.

Dimitri takes another purposeful breath. He exhales shakily, his large statue not letting him hide away like he wishes.

“I miss him.”

“Well, if I knew you were going to cause such a scene, I would’ve brought you with me.” A familiar voice behind him says. “Honestly, is this any way for a King to act?”

Dimitri whirls around at the voice, and there’s Felix.

“Felix…” He gasps and walks over to him instantly. Felix hands over his horse to a servant, just as the King reaches him. Dimitri instantly pulls him into a hug, slowly lowering himself to hug Felix’s knees, as his tiredness hits him.

“Felix. Felix. Felix.” Dimitri chants, whispering his name. He sits on the floor, pulling Felix towards him awkwardly.

“Dimitri.” Felix sighs, but pats his hair and looks up.

“Hey buddy, we thought you were coming back tomorrow?” Sylvain greets him, smiling in relief.

“I take it everything went well?” Ingrid asks, also looking relieved to no longer have to deal with Dimitri.

“Yes. It turned out to be an insignificant task.” He scoffs out. “Besides, I thought I’d be needed back here. Dedue sent me a letter, informing me of his delayed return.”

“Yes, you’re most certainly needed.” Mercedes smiles softly at him, lowering her gaze to Dimitri; still holding Felix’s legs. “We’ll let you rest for the evening; we should have lunch together tomorrow though. It’s lovely to have you back early.”

“…Thank you,” Felix replies, and as they leave, he turns his attention completely on Dimitri; ignoring the attention from the servants, guards, and anyone else who can see them like this.

“Your hair’s greasy.” He comments, continuing to run his fingers through it. He crinkles his nose in disgust. “Have you not been looking after yourself?”

“Felix. You’re back.” Dimitri mutters, nuzzling his head into his leg.

Felix moves Dimitri’s head, tilting it upwards to look at him. He pushes aside the hair covering his face, revealing his scar. Dimitri leans into his palm, closing his eye. Felix crouches down, Dimitri’s arms moving from his legs, to clutch at his coat.

“Where’s your eye patch, Boar?” He asks, carefully touching the rough area with his thumb.

“I couldn’t see,” Dimitri replies cryptically.

Felix narrows his eyes, “It’s not the eye patches fault.”

Dimitri shrugs, opening his eye. “Why did you leave?”

“Because I’m still Fraldarius’ Duke. I have responsibilities.” Felix answers, “We went over this.”

Dimitri tries to think back, but gives up, instead opting to closing his eye again, and lean further onto Felix. He sighs.

“C’mon. Let’s go.” Felix says. He stands up and Dimitri follows him, albeit reluctantly.

“I can come with you?”

Felix takes a deep breath, “Of course. We’re going to your chambers, after all.”

Dimitri stands there, looking at Felix for several moments. Felix waits patiently for him to gather his thoughts, staring back at Dimitri with an even gaze.

“No.” Dimitri eventually says.

Felix raises his eyebrow. “No?”

“I don’t want you to see it.” Dimitri admits guiltily, thinking back to the mess it’s in. He looks to the side nervously.

“Oh,” Felix quickly understands, changing his plan to accommodate the king. “That’s fine. We can just go to my room instead, but I want to a warm soak first.”

Dimitri brightens, and Felix takes the opportunity to lead him back inside the castle. Dimitri happily follows, holding onto one of Felix’s hands tightly, as he trails behind him.

They reach the baths quickly. Usually the king has his own, private bath, as does Felix; but Felix doesn’t have the time to order it to be filled. These will do, besides, no ones here this late in the evening.

“Strip down and get in,” Felix instructs, dropping Dimitri’s hand, “I’ll go, and grab us fresh clothing.”

Dimitri watches Felix leaves. He doesn’t move, he just waits for Felix to return. He spaces out, staring at the empty doorway.

Felix returns shortly, not remotely surprised that Dimitri’s done nothing; it’s definitely a bad day. He walks up to the King and starts undoing his armour. The buckles and fastenings are stiff; Felix doesn’t want to know how long he’s been wearing them.

Dimitri comes back to himself, focusing his eye on Felix.

“Felix.”

He watches as Felix works, occasionally lifting his arm or leg when requested.

“Okay,” Felix whispers, turning Dimitri to face the bath. Felix undresses himself quickly and returns to Dimitri’s side. He takes his hand and leads him into the water.

Dimitri lets himself gets handled, as Felix sits him down. The water feels nice, he notes. Felix grabs the soap he brought over and starts methodically cleaning him. Dimitri closes his eye, feeling Felix gently cleaning him.

“You’re filthy.” Felix says, and Dimitri can hear the sadness in his voice.

“I’m sorry.”

He opens his eye to Felix looking at him. He can’t work out his expression. Sadness, concern, sympathy?

“It’s not your fault.” Felix replies, and continues to wash him. He then turns his focus to Dimitri’s hair, applying some product, working it through to the roots. Dimitri relaxes under his tough, almost shivering at the contact of Felix’s fingers. He missed this contact.

Felix continues to touch, clean and care for Dimitri longer than is necessary, but neither have any complaints. Only until Dimitri is almost asleep in the bath, does Felix pull themselves out of their relaxation.

Felix rushes through his own cleaning, before standing up. He stretches his arms above his head, relishing in warm feeling, before leaving the bath, and changing into the night clothes he brought down. He returns to the baths side, and gently strokes Dimitri’s clean hair.

“Are you ready?” He asks quietly.

Dimitri nods, so Felix helps him out the bath. He leads Dimitri over to one of the benches, sitting him down, before starting to dry him thoroughly. Dimitri watches him work; eyes drawn to Felix naturally.

Felix slips on his clothes, dumping their dirty clothes into one of the baskets. The servants will identify the clothes as theirs.

Felix holds out his hand, and Dimitri walks over, taking it instantly. They make the silent walk back to Felix chambers.

Felix opens the door, closing it behind them, and pulls Dimitri over to his bed.

“I can sleep with you?” Dimitri asks hopefully. Felix ignores his heart fluttering at the question, instead forcing his eyes into a roll.

“Of course.”

Felix gets into the king-sized bed himself, letting himself melt into the covers briefly; he has been travelling all day. He opens the covers, inviting Dimitri in.

Dimitri ungracefully gets in beside him, moving himself over to Felix. He hides his face in Felix’s neck, arms wrapping around his waist. Felix moves his head up, giving Dimitri more access to his neck, and circles his own arms around his shoulders.

“Felix,” Dimitri whispers quietly. Felix might have missed it if he didn’t feel his mouth move.

“Hmmm?” He answers eloquently.

“I’m glad you’re back.” Dimitri tightens his hold. He loosens it slightly though, and Felix feels proud that he’s restraining his strength.

“I’m glad too.”

“I love you Felix.”

“…I love you too.”


End file.
